Failure
by Gindokei
Summary: What do the failed human-animal chimeras look like? Or more importantly... what do they think? A short drabble. T because of FMA's darker storyline.


_Failure_

**AN: Gasp! Can it be? Has Dream really written another FMA fic?!**

**Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is not my property – all characters are owned by Hiromu Arakawa, or, as she is more fondly known as – 'the cow'.**

**I mean that in the best possible way. Really.**

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**_You don't even want to know what the __**failures**__ looked like._

I am one of those failures. I didn't survive. I'm a lab animal now, nothing more. My humanity has deserted me, leaving me to wrestle with the combined instincts of my animal counterparts. Sometimes, I wonder how it's possible for me to even think like this.

I'm dying inside, every single day. I grow more and more bestial with the passing time – farther and farther away from what I once was.

I was once a soldier of the military. I was once looked up to by all of my family and friends – they would always admire me, seeing me as a selfless man in uniform, fighting for my country.

How wrong they were. Amestris isn't even worth fighting for.

What kind of government allows its scientists to conduct such gruesome research on its very own citizens? I had been gunned down in a battle near the western border with Creta. I hadn't been mortally wounded, but I was in pretty bad shape. I would have died if no one had come to help me, and I can honestly say that it was the happiest moment of my life when I saw two military boots in front of my face.

The happiness didn't last long. I was hauled away – I thought at the time that it was to a hospital, but when I awoke, I could tell I wasn't in a hospital. No hospital was so dark… so dreary… so full of barbaric sounds. Groans and screeches and barks – the sounds pervaded my senses, and I thought I was going crazy.

My suspicions seemed to be confirmed when I felt an agonizing pain lace up my spine. I remember flailing on the table they'd laid me on, my blunt fingernails digging into the metal surface. I remember howling in anguish, not caring if anyone could hear me. The pain was incredible, I couldn't hold back my screams. I thought I was going to die.

I wish I had. Died, I mean.

When the pain cooled down, I thought I was saved. I lifted my head and blinked blearily, observing my surroundings with a strange sort of numbness. I was so glad to be alive.

I'm not exactly sure what happened after that. There was a lot of light – blindingly blue light, I remember. The pain came back – a thousand times more potent than before. I distinctly recall feeling as if my body was being squeezed, and then stretched, and then squeezed again… it was terrible. I felt like my very molecules were being broken down and rearranged.

When I awoke after all of that, I was as I am now.

Sometimes, I see the successes – I see them walking out of the lab, see the scientists cackling with glee as their perfect creations take flight. Sometimes, those successes come and look at us failures – to make themselves feel better, probably. At least they're not stuck in a deformed body, unable to speak or even think properly.

Sometimes, I see self-loathing in their faces. It makes me angry. They have no right to be so self-pitying. At least they're alive.

I wonder how much longer I will have to suffer in this body. I don't remember doing anything cruel enough to merit such punishment – but I can't help but suffer in silence. I cannot talk. I can barely think. Sometimes, I forget how a certain word sounds, or what it means. The last vestiges of my human spirit are probably leaving me.

I am a failure. No one looks twice at me. Even if they did, they would see nothing but sadness. So let them live – let them be blissfully ignorant about the cruelty of this country.

I pray… I wait and I pray. It's all I remember how to do now.

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**AN: Inspired by Dorchet's line in the manga. Volume seven, chapter twenty-seven – 'The Beasts of Dublith'.**

**This piece is not the narrator****'s conscious thoughts ****–**** it is more like his subconscious speaking. That****'s why although he claims he can barely think, his memories are detailed. ^^ Thanks, Marie, for making me clear that up!  
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